


A Seed of Hope

by unfolded73



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Time Travel, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-29
Updated: 2018-01-29
Packaged: 2019-03-10 22:07:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13510737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unfolded73/pseuds/unfolded73
Summary: Two Emmas from different points in time switch places. Inspired by a classic (if unfinished) Doctor/Rose fanfic by rallalon entitled“Of Love and Waffles”.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: In this first part, Emma briefly believes that she may have been sexually assaulted. While she wasn’t, the scene in which she thinks this may be triggering to some readers.

Emma was a heavy sleeper and woke slowly, so it took a minute for her to realize that anything was wrong. 

Eyes still closed, she was already aware of the ever-present nauseating gnawing in her stomach that said if she didn’t eat something soon, she’d regret it. The next thing she became cognizant of was an ache in her lower back, and she shifted around, wondering why her bed felt so uncomfortable. There was a creaking of bed springs (and later, she thought that should have been the dead giveaway; her and Killian’s bed didn’t make noise like that), and Emma rolled onto her side and curled up into the fetal position, her queasiness increasing. “Babe, can you bring me some toast and a glass of water?” she asked.

There was no answer.

“Ugh, Killian, why do you have to get up so damned early?” she muttered to the empty room, and it was only as she sat up, as her gorge rose with a swell of nausea, that she opened her eyes. 

She wasn’t in her bedroom. The surroundings were familiar, even though she hadn’t slept here in years. The gaudy floral aesthetic of one of Granny’s rooms wasn’t easily forgotten. It was at that moment, as she sat there blinking and confused, that she became aware of a knocking on the door. 

“Who is it?” Emma called.

“It’s Mom.”

Emma stood up on shaky legs, trying desperately to remember why she had stayed overnight at Granny’s (because she had absolutely no memory of falling asleep here, and she certainly hadn’t done any drinking) and opened the door.

She was faced with her mother, holding out a fragrant cup of coffee. Her very pregnant mother.

That was the point that Emma’s stomach decided it had had enough.

Whirling around, Emma dashed for the bathroom, just barely getting the door closed in time to drop to her knees and empty her stomach into the toilet. Her stomach convulsing, she retched a few times, her eyes watering copiously. For the moment, Emma could focus on nothing else but her physical state. When she was finally able to calm, she rested her head against her forearm, feeling that brief relief that came after vomiting.

“Emma? Are you all right?” It was her mother’s voice on the other side of the door, and it brought her immediately back to the odd situation she’d awoken into. _What in the hell?_

“I’m okay,” she called. She stared at the navy blue pajama pants in her field of vision, the ones with little X-wing fighters on them that Henry had bought her the Christmas they’d been in New York. Pajama pants that she’d finally thrown away last year when the waistband wore out.

Flushing the toilet, Emma struggled to her feet and stared at the sink. Two generic toothbrushes stood in the holder, neither of them the rechargeable Sonicare she used now. But a floral makeup bag that she did recognize as hers sat on the vanity. Turning to the shower, she jerked the curtain aside. There was her brand of shampoo and conditioner, sitting complacently in one corner of the tub.

Twisting the cold tap on the sink, Emma cupped water in her hand and rinsed her mouth out, then pulled open the door. Her mother was waiting for her.

“Mom, what is going on?”

Snow frowned with concern. “That’s what I was going to ask you. Are you sick, honey?”

“I’m… Mom, how are you pregnant again all of a sudden?”

“Emma, what?” Snow reached out and held her hand to her daughter’s forehead. “Do you need to sit down? You’re so pale.”

“I’m fine,” Emma said automatically, her mind whirring as she let herself be led over to a chair. She finally started to take in some of the other items in the room. The fact that there was another unmade bed, empty of any occupant. The suitcases and scattered dirty clothes. The old backpack of Henry’s that was on the other bed. 

Darting up out of the chair, Emma went over and touched the backpack almost reverently. She remembered with absolute clarity the day that the entire bottom seam had split, and she had retired this backpack to the garbage and replaced it with a new, larger one for her son. Flipping it open, she was confronted with a couple of spiral-bound notebooks, a beat-up pre-algebra book and an even more tattered copy of _The Giver_. A memory of her and Henry in their New York apartment, her cooking breakfast and him reading this book, punched her in the gut.

“Mom, I know this is going to sound crazy, but humor me. What year is it?”

“Emma—”

Emma turned and faced her. “I said humor me.”

Snow exhaled loudly. “It’s 2013.”

“Uh huh. Uh huh. Okay.” Emma sank down on the bed and buried her head in her hands, feeling another wave of nausea try to overtake her. “Okay, think,” she murmured to herself. “If I’m here, then where’s the me that’s supposed to be here?” Another thought striking her, she rushed back to the bathroom and looked in the mirror.

This time Snow followed her, hovering in the doorway to the bathroom. “Emma, what in the world…”

A familiar face looked back at Emma, the same face she’d seen in her own bathroom mirror the day before. Slight crow’s feet around her eyes, a tiny downturn on one side of her mouth that she’d been thinking lately was becoming more pronounced. Chin hairs that were due to be plucked, she thought as she rubbed her fingers against her chin. Her other hand went under her baggy pajama shirt, feeling her abdomen. Her belly protruded, noticeable enough to her and Killian that they’d both been touching it frequently, so excited for what was to come.

“Mom, do I look older to you? Like, a lot older?”

Her mother gave her a kind smile. “You just look tired, sweetie. Maybe you’re coming down with—”

“No, don’t be nice. Don’t come up with an explanation. Tell me truthfully. _Do I look older?_ ”

Snow blinked, taking in Emma’s face carefully. “I guess… I mean, I’m sure—”

“Yeah, it’s because I _am_ older.” She pushed past her mother, back out into the main room. She wheeled around. “I’m from the future. These clothes I’m wearing are from now, but my body and my mind are definitely from the future. My present, _your_ future.” She looked down at her left hand, empty of rings, and felt a surge of panic. “And I need to get back there.”

~*~

A tinkling alarm bell penetrated her consciousness, and Emma groaned, pulling the comforter over her head. She was bone tired and she’d planned to sleep in today. She must’ve forgotten to turn her alarm off, she thought, which was followed quickly on the heels of, what the hell alarm setting was that, anyway? That didn’t sound like her phone.

Then the noise stopped, and the mattress shifted as she felt the unmistakable feeling of another person getting out of bed. Emma’s eyes shot open. 

A man’s bare ass dominated her field of vision, and she sat up very quickly.

“Morning, love.” The man turned around and smiled at her. It was Hook. Naked Hook. 

“What the fuck,” she said, her eyes drifting down of their own accord to his groin before she averted her gaze. “What the fuck are you doing in my…” Looking at the unfamiliar surroundings, she amended her question. “Where the hell are we?”

All of the happiness drained out of Hook’s face immediately. “Darling, what’s wrong?”

Emma began to be aware of her own body, and her eyes dropped. She wore a tank top, but lifting the covers, her sight confirmed what the sensation of the sheets against her backside was already starting to tell her: she had nothing else on. Her heart leapt into her throat.

“You drugged me,” she said, and the implications of that accusation were like a punch to the stomach. “You drugged me and…” She felt sick, even thinking the words. “Was it fun for you, raping an unconscious woman?”

“ _What?_ ” Hook was pulling pajama pants up with jerky motions (his one hand doing the work of two as his bare wrist hung at his side, and Emma absently registered the sight of him without his hook) as his facial expression took her on a journey from anger to fear to concern. When he had his pants on, he held his hand up in a gesture of surrender. “Emma, what’s the last thing you remember?”

“Where did you take me? Where is this?” Desperate to get out of bed but unwilling to let him see her half naked, Emma looked over the side of the bed and saw a crumpled pair of underwear on the floor. Snatching them up, she bent her knees and worked to put her panties on under the covers.

“I think you’ve lost some memories, Emma. Tell me the last thing you remember. Please.”

“You’re going to jail, you fucking asshole,” she gritted, holding tears at bay by focusing on her rage. “I will personally see to it that you pay for this. I’ll cut your fucking cock off.” As decent as she could get, she stood up out of bed. “Where the hell are the rest of my clothes?”

Hook took a step back, gesturing around at the room they were in. “Any clothes that you require are here, in your bedroom. In your house. That you share with me.”

“You’re delusional,” she muttered, stalking over and yanking open the closet. It held a woman’s clothes, but they certainly weren’t hers. Still, in a pinch, they would do. She practically ripped a floral shirt off a hanger and started to pull it on, her shaking hands making it difficult.

“You look different,” Hook said.

“Maybe because I’ve been violated in the worst possible way.” She grabbed a pair of jeans off of a shelf and, looking around, darted for what appeared to be the bathroom before Hook could stop her. Slamming the door, she locked it and leaned against it.

“Emma, please open the door and talk to me. I swear, it’s your memories, love. I would _never_ —”

“Fuck you.”

She stared at the shower, fighting off an overwhelming desire to wash herself. She was sheriff; she knew what the right procedure was: go immediately to the hospital and get a rape kit collected. Her hand darted down between her legs as she couldn’t help but imagine what might’ve happened to her. She frowned in confusion. Now that she thought about it, it didn’t feel like she’d had sex at all, much less forceful, unwanted sex. 

As she pulled her hand out of her underwear, something snagged against the fabric, and Emma raised her left hand in front of her face. Two rings, one with a decent-sized diamond on it, sat there on her ring finger. Was this some kind of twisted roleplaying scenario he’d come up with?

“When you were a girl, you read a book called ‘The Road to Terabithia’ and you cried so hard that you vomited,” said Hook’s disembodied voice from the bedroom.

“What the hell are you saying?” Emma said as she shook herself and pulled the jeans on. Fortunately, they fit.

“I’m telling you secrets you’ve shared about yourself over the years so that hopefully you’ll trust me,” he replied. “You got your menses for the first time at school and had to tie a sweater around your waist, and you felt like everyone knew.”

Emma frowned as she buttoned her shirt. She’d never told Hook either of those things. She’d never told anyone in Storybrooke either of those things, as far as she could recall.

“You once performed fellatio on Neal in a movie theater,” he said.

“Wow, thanks for bringing up my recently deceased ex.”

“Recently… Emma, what year do you think it is?” His voice shifted on that last question, sounding more urgent if that was possible.

“What _year_ …? You tell me what year it is, asshole.”

He sighed audibly. “It’s 2022.”

The laugh that came out of her mouth sounded hysterical. “You _are_ delusional.”

“What year do you believe it is, then, love?”

“2013.”

There was a pause. “Emma, open the door and look at the date on your phone.”

“I’m not opening the door, Hook.”

“So what’s your game plan, then, to stay in that bathroom forever? Your phone is out here. Open the door and just look at the date. I won’t touch you. I won’t get anywhere near you. Please.”

He had a point. Exhaling slowly and smoothing out her hair, Emma unlocked and opened the bathroom door. Hook had backed away from the door and had put on a shirt — a t-shirt, which was a bizarre item of clothing to see him in. He gestured toward the bedside table, where a slim black phone sat. Emma picked it up, almost dropping it when it was lighter and thinner than she expected. She touched her thumb on the screen and the date appeared: January 24, 2022.

“You changed it,” she said.

“Yes, because that’s something the me from your time was capable of: reprogramming a mobile phone,” he said sarcastically. “I doubt I could do that _now_.”

Emma stared at the phone in her hand. The other thing Hook couldn’t do was obtain a phone like this, more futuristic than anything she’d ever seen. “It’s ‘Bridge to Terabithia.’”

“What?”

“The book. It’s called _The Bridge to Terabithia_. Not ‘road’.”

“My apologies.”

“So what is this, then?” she said, finally meeting his eyes. “What are you telling me?”

His face softened. “Darling, you’re young. I should have noticed it immediately, but you don’t expect to awaken next to a younger version of your wife one morning.”

“Your _what_?”

~*~

“What do you mean, the future?” Snow asked. 

“ _This_ ,” she said, gesturing around at the room, “is my past. When I went to bed last night, I was in my house with my husband. It was 2022. When I woke up this morning, I was here, in a room at Granny’s with Henry’s pre-algebra book! Henry is twenty-one years old! I can only assume that a very confused younger me is…” She blinked, thinking about what the Emma from this time would think, awakening next to Killian. It couldn’t be good. “Is in my place. Or not, I don’t know how this shit works. The point is, something is seriously wrong with time, at least as it relates to me, and we need to fix it.”

Her mother stared at her for a couple of beats, taking all of that in, and then weirdly, her face lit up.

“Emma, you got _married_?” Snow said, the pitch of her voice on ‘married’ approaching something only dogs would hear. “To who?”

“Um… let’s not get into that right now.” She was definitely not ready to go twenty rounds with her mother about Captain Hook as a suitable husband.

“Wait, hang on, we need to think about this. There could there be a more reasonable explanation, couldn’t there?” Snow said. “Maybe you’re just… confused.”

“What, you think I’ve dreamed up nine years of an imaginary life?”

Snow looked guilty for suggesting it, but she didn’t back down. “Or magic has messed with your memories somehow. There’s a good bit of that going around.”

“It’s not just my memories, Mom. You can tell I’m older, you admitted it.”

“Yes, I suppose, but—”

“That’s not all,” Emma said, pulling her loose sleep shirt tight against her abdomen so that her baby bump was visible. “I’m three months pregnant. And I definitely wasn’t pregnant back then… now, I mean. The Emma from this time wasn’t pregnant.”

“Oh, Emma!” Snow said, her excitement clearly taking priority over the immediate circumstances. “That’s wonderful!” she said as she pulled her into a tight hug.

“Yeah, we’re pretty excited about it, which is why I really need to get back home.” She freed herself from her mother’s embrace. “Also, I guess I better find Henry.”

“He’s down in the diner with David.”

“Fuck, what am I going to say to Henry?” She put her fingers to her temples, trying to remember the details of the past. “He still doesn’t have his memories at this point, right?” Snow nodded. “Okay, then I definitely can’t tell him I’m from the future.”

“We’ll figure something out.”

“Okay, you’re pregnant, so we’re dealing with Zelena… And Neal, is he…” Her heart raced at the idea that she might have to watch him die all over again.

“We buried Neal several days ago,” her mother answered gently.

Emma breathed a sigh of relief. “And Gold is still under Zelena’s control, right? So he won’t be any help.”

“That’s right,” Snow answered. 

Emma sighed. “Too bad; he’d probably know just what to do. Okay, failing that, I guess we should go talk to Regina.” Looking down at her pajamas, Emma smiled wryly. “Let me see if I can find some pants I can fit into in my suitcase. Is there any way you can get me some toast and a cup of tea? I kind of need to eat or I’m gonna puke again. Also, the smell of that coffee isn’t really helping.”

Snow snatched the coffee up and poured it down the bathroom sink. “Ah, morning sickness; I miss it not at all. Okay, I’ll go get you some toast.” She patted Emma’s back and left her alone in the room again.

Fortunately, she found leggings and an oversized sweater in her suitcase that would hide her pregnancy; as long as none of Storybrooke’s other residents got too close to her, she should be able to pass as her younger self. While she waited for her mother to return, she picked up and folded the clothes that were on the floor, shaking her head at how much of a slob she’d apparently been.

When Snow returned with the promised food, she had David in tow. “Robin Hood and his little son came by, so I asked if he could watch Henry for a little while,” Snow said. “And I did my best to explain things to David on the way up the stairs, but—”

Her father abruptly pulled her into a hug, his large hand cradling the back of her head. 

“What was that for?” Emma asked when he finally let her go.

David smiled sheepishly. “I’m not sure I realized how terrified I am that being the Savior will get you killed until I walked in and saw you standing here, older and happy and _alive_.” 

That broke Emma’s heart a little bit. Her father tended to draft behind her mother’s optimism, putting on a brave face, but underneath it, he worried for her so much. In the recent years of peace, she’d forgotten.

Once she’d eaten, filling her father in on what she could and again dodging the question of who she was married to, they headed out. It all seemed simple and clear in her head as Emma left Granny’s on her parents’ heels, heading toward where her mother’s station wagon was parked. They would go to Regina’s house, tell Regina what had happened, and Regina would figure out how to fix things. Maybe they could whip up some memory potions while they were at it. Her mom and dad knowing with absolute certainty that nine years later she would be alive and well with a husband and baby on the way might not be the best idea, comforting for them as it might be.

Emma was staring down at her feet, lost in thought, so when the most familiar voice in her life called out “Swan!” from some distance away, for a moment she thought that somehow her husband had found a way to follow her back to the past. She turned and saw Killian running toward them, his long pirate coat swinging behind him. Her heart stuttered in her chest at the way he’d looked back then.

“Is there a plan afoot for the Wicked Witch?” he asked them. “Can I be of service?” Emma took a step backward, hesitant to let Killian get too good a look at her. If anyone was going to notice immediately that she looked different, it would be the man who was hopelessly in love with her.

Snow glanced back at Emma. “No, nothing like that, not at the moment. We’re just headed to Regina’s on a…nother matter.”

“All right. Well please let me know if you need my help.” He bowed his head slightly.

Emma watched Killian’s eyes dart to her several times, as if he was trying not to look at her and failing. His feelings for her were so painfully obvious that it made her heart hurt. “Maybe he should come with us,” she blurted suddenly.

David turned and gave her a confused stare. “Why?”

 _Yeah, why?_ she thought. The answer was, she just… wanted him around. She missed her husband, and this was as close as she could get.

“He might be able to help somehow,” she said. “I don’t know. Call it a hunch.”

David sighed. “All right, whatever. The more, the merrier I guess.”

She ended up in the backseat of the car next to Killian, who was folded up in the seat behind her mother, looking uncomfortable and perplexed. “Are you all right, Swan?” he asked as the car pulled away from the curb. “You look exhausted, if you don’t mind my saying so.”

She smiled. “Yeah, I’ll explain once we get to Regina’s.” Her fingers twitched with the urge to reach out and take his hand. Threading her fingers together, she kept her hands resolutely in her lap.

~*~

Emma sat at the kitchen table in this house that was apparently hers, a cup of coffee in hand. “I’m in the future,” she said for what felt like the hundredth time.

“Aye,” Hook replied evenly as he closed the refrigerator.

Now that she’d taken a good look at him, there was no denying that this Hook was indeed older than the one she’d seen the day before. She’d even spotted a gray hair at his temple. All of the evidence, from the wedding pictures on the mantle, to the way a familiar pair of her boots were lined up next to the front door, to the copy of the _Storybrooke Mirror_ on the kitchen table supported his story. “Where’s the version of me that’s supposed to be here, then? Older me?”

He was facing mostly away from her, occupied at the counter with his breakfast preparations, but she could still see his jaw clench. “Believe me, I want to know that just as badly as you do.”

“Maybe she woke up in my place,” Emma said. “She’ll probably have an easier time figuring out what’s happened than I did since she’ll recognize stuff.”

Hook cracked eggs into a bowl and then pulled a whisk out of a drawer. It was a nice kitchen, Emma thought, examining the cabinets and countertops. Kind of retro, but very homey.

“Exactly when are you from, love?” Hook asked as he whisked the eggs perhaps a tad more violently than was necessary. 

“Um… we’re fighting the Wicked Witch. Mom is pregnant. You’re… being weird, actually.”

“I’m being _weird_?” There was a sizzling sound as he poured eggs into a heated pan.

“Yeah, yesterday after we tried to do this seance thing at Regina’s to talk to Cora, you were… I don’t know. Subdued, I guess. Anyway, Belle just figured out that Zelena’s planning a time travel spell. God, is that what this is? Is this some side effect of Zelena’s spell?”

Hook stirred the eggs with a spatula. “I don’t know. I certainly have no memory of this happening.”

“Do we defeat her?”

“I’m not sure what it’s safe to tell you about your future but as you can see, Storybrooke is still standing.” He transferred the eggs to plates and put one of them in front of her. 

“The way I see it, I already know a pretty big thing about my future.”

She got a half-smile from him in acknowledgment of that. “Aye, and we’ll have to sort that out with a memory potion, I expect. Can’t send you back to your time knowing that you and I marry.” He sat down at the table with his own plate.

Emma took a bite of her eggs, which were exactly the way she liked them. Fluffy, and cooked enough so that they weren’t even a little bit runny. He’d even finished them with the perfect amount of pepper. Almost as if Hook had taken care to learn to cook eggs to her specifications. 

“If I’m going to have to take a memory potion anyway, then it doesn’t matter what you tell me,” she pointed out.

He huffed. “I suppose that’s true. We prevail over Zelena. There are some… complications, but in the end, everything works out.”

They ate in silence for a while. 

“So when did Henry move out?” She’d seen his somewhat barren bedroom upstairs, and Hook had explained that he was a grown man now, out on his own. It was almost impossible to imagine.

“About three and a half years ago.”

“God, you’re his _stepfather_ ,” she said, dumbfounded with each additional wrinkle in the tapestry of this marriage she apparently ended up in.

“Aye.” He grimaced. “I assure you, in the future, you don’t find it nearly so distasteful.”

“No, I don’t… find it distasteful. You’ve always been great with him; I sure it’s… great,” she finished lamely. What she really wanted to ask him was how they had gotten together. She knew he had feelings for her, and in her more honest moments, she could admit to herself that there were some feelings on her side as well, but they were a long way from even dating, much less anything more serious. Much less marriage. She wasn’t even planning to stay in Storybrooke, but it looked like that’s exactly what she’d done.

Asking about their relationship felt like too big a thing. Fumbling for something to do with her hands, she picked a prescription pill bottle up off the table, turning it over and over.

“I’m really sorry that I accused you of… hurting me,” she finally said.

“Given the way you awoke, darling, I can hardly blame you for jumping to a terrible conclusion.” His cheeks colored. “I certainly wouldn’t have paraded around bare-arsed in front of you had I known.”

“How could you have known?” She looked at the bottle she was fidgeting with. EMMA SWAN was printed on the label in block letters, but she didn’t recognize the name of the drug. “Ugh, these are huge pills,” she said, scrutinizing them through the amber-colored plastic. “What am I taking?”

Killian glanced at it over the rim of his coffee cup as he took a sip. “Vitamins.”

“Prescription vitamins? What, am I anemic or something?”

Sighing heavily, he looked her in the eye. “No, you’re pregnant.”

Emma carefully set the pills back down and then let her head drop onto the table. “Holy shit.”

“Another thing that in the future, you don’t find distasteful.”

“Sorry,” she said as she lifted her head. “It’s just… I never wanted to have another kid.”

“Your desires changed. I didn’t pressure you into it, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

His expression was so sad, and she winced with guilt. “You don’t have to keep defending yourself to me. I know I’m being awful, but it’s just a lot to process.”

“Yes, I imagine it would be.” He cleared his throat and stood, picking up her empty plate and putting it in the sink. “We should probably get to work on determining what’s brought you here, and how to get you back where you belong.”

“Yeah, let’s rally the troops. Mom, Dad, Regina, Gold if he’s still alive…”

“Ah. Well, we shall certainly phone your parents. Gold is, as far as I know, still alive, but he and Belle left Storybrooke to travel the realms years ago. Regina has very recently elected to stay in another realm with Henry, so she isn’t easily reachable either.” He hesitated, scratching behind his ear. “I know who the best person to call in this situation is, but you aren’t going to like it.”

“Why, who is it?”

“Zelena.”

~*~

Regina opened her front door, took one look at Emma, and frowned. “What the hell happened to you? You look like you’ve aged ten years.”

“It’s not _ten_ years,” she grumbled as they were admitted into the house.

She filled Regina (and Killian, who lurked by the mantle and silently listened) in on the basics of what had happened, leaving out any mention of her marriage this time.

“So do you think Zelena caused this?” Emma asked when she finished her story. “We know she’s messing around with time travel.”

Regina raised her eyebrows. “I suppose it’s possible, but this is a strange sort of time travel. And why would she do this to you? Having a more experienced and, I presume, more powerful version of the Savior in Storybrooke certainly isn’t going to help her.”

A terrible thought occurred to Emma, and she realized she wasn’t going to be able to be as secretive about herself as she would like. “What about having a pregnant version of the Savior? Maybe a backup ‘product of true love’, in case something goes wrong with the first one?” She glanced at Hook as she spoke — she couldn’t help herself — but his eyes were trained resolutely on the floor.

“Oh, are you pregnant?” Regina asked, but then she immediately shook her head. “No, that’s putting the cart before the horse. If she was already capable of time travel, she wouldn’t need a product of true love in the first place.”

“Maybe this was a different kind of spell, and me getting pulled back in time was just a side effect,” Emma said.

“Perhaps, but if such a spell exists, I’ve never heard of it. Rumple would probably know.” Regina clenched her fist. “I’ll just have to do some research on my own, and—” She was interrupted by the ringing doorbell. “What is this, Grand Central Station?” Regina muttered as she got up to answer the door. 

Snow reached out and took Emma’s hand, one of those almost-in-tears smiles on her face. “True love?” she whispered.

Emma nodded, smiling at her mother and resolutely not looking at the pirate across the room.

Robin, Roland, and Henry followed Regina back into the parlor. “Sorry, if I’d known you already had visitors—”

“It’s fine, Robin.” Regina gave Robin a warm smile, and Emma felt tears prickling behind her eyes as she watched them. Turning her attention to Henry, thoughts of Regina and her doomed love fled Emma’s mind.

It had only been a few weeks ago that Emma had run through a portal and left behind her grown son in another realm, off on his own adventure. Seeing him like this, a small boy of twelve, she felt the strong urge to hug him tightly and never let him go. To tell him to stay this age forever. 

“I just stopped by to see if Regina wanted to join us for a walk down at the beach,” Robin said, his eyes flicking quickly between Henry and Regina. Emma could see his strategy: since he was taking care of Henry for the moment, it would seem natural for Robin to include Regina in whatever they were doing, allowing her to spend time with Henry without raising his suspicion. Even knowing that Henry would get his memories back soon, Emma felt another surge of pity for Regina.

“I’ll call you tomorrow and let you know what I’ve found out,” Regina said, effectively dismissing them. With nothing else to do, Emma told Henry she’d pick him up in a couple of hours. Eyes on his Nintendo, he nodded. At least if he was busy on his game, he wouldn’t notice that she looked different.

Once they had piled back in Snow’s car, Emma let out a breath. “God, it’s weird seeing Henry so young.”

David turned in his seat to look at her. “I bet he’s grown up into a pretty impressive young man.”

“Yeah, he has. And you should see him with a sword.”

Her father puffed up. “Just like his grandpa, eh? I bet I taught him everything he knows.”

She flinched a little at that. David had certainly contributed to Henry’s sword-fighting lessons, but most of them had come from Killian. Long hours in the backyard and on the deck of _Jolly Roger_ had made Henry into the expert he now was.

Killian cleared his throat as they drove out of Regina’s neighborhood. “Congratulations on the baby, Swan. I’m sure you’ve made some lucky bloke very happy.”

 _You’re the lucky bloke_ , she wanted to shout. “He’s made me very happy too,” she said, meeting his eyes. She knew she should keep as much of the future a secret as she could, she knew that, but Killian seemed so hopeless, and she wanted to give him hope. She wanted him to be able to read the truth on her face.

He turned away from her and looked out of the car window, his jaw spasming as he clenched it.


	2. Chapter 2

Emma eyed the Wicked Witch of the West from the other side of the living room. She couldn’t believe the way Hook just welcomed her into his house, as if none of the past had happened. As if this woman weren’t responsible for Neal’s death. 

Of course, she didn’t look much like the Wicked Witch right now, she just looked like the harried mother of a rambunctious daughter. The daughter in question was currently armed with a Nerf bow and arrow and had taken cover behind the sofa after shooting Hook with several harmless Nerf darts. He took it completely in stride like it had happened many times before, and something about that fact made Emma’s heart clench.

“Sorry to be in such a rush, but I’ve got about a million errands I need to run today,” Zelena said, pushing her hair off of her face. “What did you need?”

“Have you ever heard of a spell that caused someone from the past to suddenly replace themselves in the future?”

Zelena laughed. “To suddenly _what_?”

Emma approached now. “I woke up this morning, and I was nine years in the future,” she said bluntly. “Sound familiar? Like something that you did to me, maybe?”

Bristling, Zelena reached out and stopped her daughter from racing through the room. “Walk, Robin,” she said automatically. “What exactly are you accusing me of?”

“You were…” Emma glanced at Robin. Even hating Zelena as much as she did, she wasn’t willing to poison the woman’s daughter against her. “In the past, where… _when_ I came from, we were on opposite sides. And you were collecting ingredients for a time travel spell. Is that how I got here?”

Zelena finally seemed to notice Emma fully, and she took her in from head to toe before turning back to Hook. “Where’s our Emma?”

“We don’t know. Perhaps in the past?”

“So they might have switched places?” Zelena looked thoughtful at that. “That does sound familiar, but it’s not a spell I’ve ever come across, and certainly not one I ever cast.”

“Well, if you can think of where you’ve heard of it, please let us know,” Killian said, just as another Nerf dart hit him square in the chest. “Curses, I am slain!” he said with an exaggerated stagger before giving Robin a wink and flipping the dart back in her direction.

“Come on, darling, collect your projectiles and let’s get to the hardware store,” Zelena said, halfway to the door before she stopped and hit the heel of her hand against her forehead. “Oh, I know where I’ve heard of switching places in time like this before! Unfortunately, it was just a story.”

“Surely I don’t have to tell you that there can be a core of truth in stories, love.”

“Good point. Let me think,” she said, tapping her chin. “It was a legend about a ruler whose kingdom was being assailed by some kind of horrible beast. Many knights tried to defeat the beast, but they were killed to a man.”

“I am no man!” Robin shouted, letting loose with another volley of arrows; she seemed to have inserted herself into Zelena’s story.

“Would that you had been there, Robin,” she said with an indulgent smile. “The king summoned an old fortune-teller and asked for her advice. How could they possibly defeat this beast if his best knights had been slain? She told him that the problem was that no one who had faced the beast had done so with a pure heart. Well, the king knew _he_ didn’t qualify; he was a philanderer with mistresses strewn about the kingdom, and he was filling his coffers off of the labor of slaves. She said, no problem, take this wishing stone and make a wish. Wish that you may face the beast with a pure heart.”

Hook smirked. “Don’t the villains in these stories know not to trust random soothsayers?”

“Well, this one didn’t. He descended into the cave of the beast and at the critical moment, he made the wish that he could face the beast with a pure heart. And at that moment, he found himself in his nursery in the palace, surrounded by all the toys he recognized from when he was a boy. Meanwhile, back in the beast’s lair, the six-year-old future king faced the creature, because at six, he was indeed pure of heart.”

“And the kid defeated the beast?” Emma asked.

Zelena laughed. “No no no, the beast swallowed him whole because children are terrible swordsmen.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “Cool story.”

“Could this wishing stone be real?” Hook asked.

Shrugging, Zelena shouldered her purse as Robin dashed out onto the porch and down the walkway toward the street. “Not that I’ve ever heard of, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t.”

“Because what if someone in the past wished for Emma to be stronger? Wished for her magic to be stronger?”

Zelena nodded. “Her pregnancy does seem to have augmented her power; she demonstrated it for me last week. But if the source of the spell is in the past, then there’s nothing we can do about it from here. In these sorts of situations, usually only the person who made the wish can reverse it. They’ll have to figure it out themselves.”

“And what if future me with her pregnancy-induced power kills you first?” Emma asked through clenched teeth.

“She won’t,” Zelena said with a shrug. “She’s my friend.”

“Come on, Mom!” Robin shouted from where she was fidgeting next to an extremely green car parked in front of the house.

“Good luck with all this,” Zelena said to Hook, gesturing vaguely at Emma.

When he had shut the door, Emma turned on him. “How can you be friends with her after everything she did?”

“We’ve accepted her because she changed. The same way I was accepted. The same way Regina was.” He shrugged, going over and picking up some books that Robin had knocked off of the coffee table. “We forgave her.”

Emma huffed. “Okay, whatever. So what do we do, just sit on our hands and wait for someone else to figure out how to fix this? I’m not good at that.”

“Don’t I know it.” Hook faced her. “I phoned your parents, and they’ll be over as soon as they finish up some things at the farm. Perhaps they will have some insights.”

“What farm?”

Hook explained that her parents had moved out to the edge of town, and that the old loft apartment was now occupied by some girl named Violet and a roommate. He seemed to think for a second that she’d know who Violet was, but then he checked himself when he realized that she didn’t.

“It’s harder than you would think, remembering what you know about and what you don’t,” he said, rubbing the back of his head.

Emma glared at him. “Yeah, _you’re_ the one this is hard for.”

“Fair point, love.”

~*~

“So what should we do while Regina’s trying to figure out what happened?” her mother asked when they returned to Granny’s. It wasn’t lunchtime yet, but Emma already felt like she was starving and she made straight for one of the diner booths, intent on ordering a second breakfast.

“Maybe we could talk to Belle?” Emma suggested. “She might have read about a spell like this.”

“Good idea, honey,” David said.

Deciding it was best to limit the number of people who saw this older Emma out in town, her parents urged her to rest while they visited Belle. She wanted to argue, but she also really wanted a nap, so Emma agreed. She wasn’t sure what had become of Killian; as soon as Snow had parked, he had been out of the car and gone. Emma had to admit that towing him along to Regina’s had probably been a bad idea. He hadn’t had anything useful to contribute, and from his perspective, it must have seemed like she was rubbing his nose in the fact that she had a happy life in the future with some other guy.

Lying on her bed, all Emma could see when she closed her eyes was his hopeless expression. He’d brooded a lot back then, she knew that, but it was one thing to know it and it was another to see it now that she was used to a much happier man, settled into his life with her.

When her parents knocked on the door of her room an hour later, she hadn’t slept a wink.

“Well, we figured it out,” her mother said as she sailed into the room, a frustrated tone to her voice.

David was pleading with her. “I told you, I had no idea what I was doing, sweetheart. I didn’t think it was magic, I thought it was just… a wish.”

“David, how can you be so naive about wishes?” Snow snapped.

“What are you guys talking about?” Emma interrupted. “You know why I’m here?”

“Your predicament reminded Belle of a legend she’d read once, about a king and a beast and… it doesn’t matter,” Snow said, blowing her bangs out of her face. “There was a wishing stone, that’s the important part of the story. And then _David_ —”

“I remembered that after Neal’s funeral, I went over to Gold’s shop to help Belle move a couple of heavy objects — she’s been trying to organize the place. And I found this rock, but see, the inventory card said it was non-magical—”

“Your father wished you here,” Snow concluded.

Emma blinked, looking back and forth between the two of them. “You wished for… what exactly? An older version of me?”

“No, I wished that if you have to face Zelena, that your magic would be strong, that’s all.” He held up his hands in surrender.

“And my magic is stronger now than it was back… now,” Emma said, wrinkling her nose at her own phrasing. “It’s been particularly potent since I got pregnant. So what do we do to reverse it?”

“Fortunately, that part’s easy. David destroys the stone.” Snow pulled her hand out of her pocket and held it out, palm up. A nondescript gray rock rested on it.

“Oh,” Emma said, feeling a sense of anticlimax that it was that easy. “Okay, but what about the fact that you guys have information about the future after talking to me? Should we ask Regina to whip up some memory potions?”

“No need,” David said. “When I destroy the stone, it will be like none of this ever happened. The wish won’t just be undone, it will be _unmade_ , according to Belle.”

“So no one will remember anything I’ve told them?” Emma asked.

“Nope.” David picked up the stone and weighed it in his hand. “I figure one of the dwarves’ pickaxes should do the trick.”

“Hang on,” Emma said, pulling her coat on quickly and stepping into her shoes. “Before you go unmaking your wish, I need to talk to Hook.”

Snow frowned. “Why do you need to talk to Hook?”

Emma opened the door, looked back at them, and smiled. “Because in the future, he’s my true love. And if there’s no consequence to anything I tell anyone here, I want him to know it. Even if it’s just for a few minutes.”

Before they had a chance to react, she fled the room.

Figuring she knew where he’d been headed when he left, Emma made her way toward the harbor. Sure enough, she found him there hunched on a bench like a great, dark bat, staring out at the water.

“Hey,” she said, out of breath as she approached.

“Swan.” Killian stood, frowning at her. “You should be resting, love, not running around town.”

“Not you too, I get enough of that at home.” She dropped onto the bench, patting the seat next to her. “Sit with me for a minute.”

He grimaced, looking up at the sky as if for strength. “I appreciate that you must look for assistance to get back to your happy life wherever you can find it, but I’m not going to be of any use to you. This doesn’t fall within my area of expertise.”

“Oh, Belle and my parents figured it out,” she said, waving her hand dismissively. “If they’re right, I’ll be back home by nightfall and none of you will remember this happened. Apparently _I_ won’t even remember this happened.”

Killian collapsed next to her. “Well, I’m glad things will be set right, for your sake.”

Emma looked at him for a long beat. Now that she was here, she didn’t know how to tell him something so momentous, and perhaps it served no purpose to do so. “Things are gonna get better, you know,” she said softly.

He just snorted. “You don’t know what I’ve…you don’t know everything.”

“Oh, you think so?” She almost laughed. “Have you forgotten that I’m from the future? I know Zelena cursed your lips, hoping to steal my magic. I know you’re trying to figure out how to save Henry right now, and you feel like no matter which way you turn, you’re trapped.”

His face showed naked surprise, and then just as quickly it shuttered. “You must have been furious with me when you learned that.”

Shrugging, Emma put her hand on his shoulder. “At first, yeah, but I got over it.”

“I appreciate your kindness, love.” He continued to gaze out over the water.

“It never even occurred to you that it might be you, did it?” she murmured.

Killian turned to her with an arched eyebrow. “What are you talking about?”

“You learned that in the future, I have a husband, my true love and the father of this baby I’m carrying, and never once did it occur to you that it might be you. That _you_ might be the man I’m so anxious to get back to.”

He squeezed his eyes closed. “Please don’t taunt me, love, I can’t bear it.” 

She put her hands on either side of his face, forcing him to look at her. “I’m not taunting you, Killian. I’m telling you that in the future, we fall in love.” She felt tears welling up, and she gave him a watery laugh. “Or, I guess _I_ fall in love, because I’m pretty sure you’re already there. And I’m not gonna lie, we go through some rough times. But we weathered it because it’s true love between us.”

He looked back and forth between her eyes, and she could see the moment that a spark of belief, of hope, ignited. “Emma…”

“You have a long road to travel, Killian Jones, but I promise you that at the end of it…” She sort of laugh-hiccupped through her tears. “Not the _end_ of it, that sounds like you’re dying. God, I suck at these speeches; you are so much better at these speeches.” Pulling in a deep breath, she attempted to get back on track. “Our marriage is… it’s more wonderful than I could have hoped. And now we have this.” Taking his hand in hers, she brought it up under her sweater and pressed it against the swell of her belly.

This was why she was doing this, Emma thought as she looked at Killian’s shocked expression, positively brimming with awe: to give him this moment of happiness, even though it was fleeting. Although perhaps a selfish desire to experience his reaction figured in as well.

“The babe you’re carrying… it’s mine?”

She nodded, tears spilling over and running down her cheeks.

“How could I possibly be so lucky?” he asked.

Emma didn’t know how to tell him that it wasn’t luck, that it was work and determination and the magic of true love that had allowed them to be together. Instead she just pressed her forehead against his, breathing him in. “If your lips weren’t cursed, I’d totally kiss you right now.”

He laughed, and she could hear the tears in his voice. “You’ll just have to kiss me in the future, when you get back.”

“Oh, I’m gonna do a lot more than kiss you when I get back.”

She felt him shiver at that, and he pulled away to look at her again, a little bit of his trademark smirk showing through. “I very much look forward to that.”

“I wish you could… look forward to it, I mean. Obviously you can’t know your future, it would screw everything up. But I just wish that…” She reached up and combed her fingers through the hair at his temple, caressing the tip of his ear. Then realizing that _her_ lips weren’t cursed, she leaned over and kissed his cheek. “I wish there was a way to plant a tiny seed of hope, so that a part of you knew that you and I are meant to be together.”

“Perhaps that’s exactly what you’ve done, love. Who knows what might linger in my mind after you’ve returned to your proper time?” 

Emma smiled, tilting her head as she studied him. “I hope so.” Finally letting go of the hand she’d been pressing against her abdomen, she threw her arms around his neck and hugged him. “I love you,” she whispered. “Don’t give up on me.”

“How could I ever?” He clung to her in return, his hand and hook pressed against her back. “I lo—”

“Don’t,” she said, pulling away and grinning sheepishly at her own silliness. “Don’t say it yet. Don’t say it until we’ll both remember it.”

He inclined his head in agreement. “As you wish, darling.”

“Nope, no wishes. If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that wishes are trouble.” Emma rested her head on his shoulder, tracing her fingers over the embroidery on the cuff of his coat before she gripped his hook in her hand. 

They sat in silence for a few minutes, just being close to one another. “When must you break the spell?” he asked.

“I probably should go take care of it now.” 

“Then, thank you for giving me this gift.” Emma lifted her head to watch him speak. “I haven’t felt joy like this in… I don’t know how long.”

“I promise there’s a lot more joy in your future.” She took his hand and kissed the back of it.

His eyes filled with tears again. “I hope that I appreciate every moment.”

“You do. You absolutely do.”

~*~

The visit from her parents — her _future_ parents — left Emma feeling strange and out of sorts. It was odd to see them showing their age finally, and odder still to realize that the tall boy with sandy blonde hair they brought along was her brother. He begged Killian for a sword-fighting lesson for a full minute ( _Next time, my boy, I promise,_ Killian had said, before her mother finally suggested he go watch TV in a back room); it was clear he idolized the pirate. Unbelievably, her father didn’t seem to mind.

None of their brainstorming led anywhere useful, although David expressed his hunch that things would find a way to work themselves out. When her family left, promising to return the next day, Emma breathed a sigh of relief.

Left at loose ends, she wandered around the house, looking at their belongings and trying to imagine the story behind them, the collection of stories that would combine to make the picture of this marriage. Why had she and Killian chosen the overstuffed chair next to the fireplace? Which one of them had put the wedding picture into a frame and hung it on the wall? Did Killian vacuum the floors? Did he scrub the toilet? 

She found a small study on the first floor of the house, a room that seemed to be more Killian’s than hers; it was devoid of any electronics, and several shelves above the desk were filled with rolled up maps. As she traced her hand over a nautical map of Maine’s coast that hung on the wall, she noticed the wedding and engagement rings on her finger again. For some reason, it hadn’t occurred to her to take them off since that very first moment when she saw them in the bathroom, and it made her wonder if underneath her knee-jerk aversion to the ideas of marriage and children, perhaps she had a desire for those things.

Continuing to explore upstairs, she discovered a room that she hadn’t noticed before. The door had been closed, and she’d thought it was just a linen closet next to Henry’s old room, but when she went in, it appeared to be the beginnings of a nursery. Boxes labeled ‘Baby Things’ in her mother’s careful script were stacked in one corner, and paint sample cards with a variety of bright primary colors were taped to the wall. 

When Killian found her, she was holding a stuffed bear that had been resting at the top of one of the boxes and crying.

“Emma, what’s wrong, love?” He started to move toward her like he was going to take her in his arms, and she could see the moment he reined himself in. It made her want to cry harder.

“I wasn’t planning to stay here in Storybrooke. I didn’t feel like this was my home.”

“Aye, that’s so, but you changed your mind. You made a home here after all.”

“What if we never fix this? What if you’re stuck with this broken version of me forever?” she asked.

“I’m sure we’ll fix it, and Emma, this so-called broken version of you is the woman I fell in love with, you mustn’t forget that.”

She shrugged. “It just seems like there’s this huge canyon between who I am now and who I turn out to be. With the house and the… paint swatches,” she said, gesturing at the wall.

“Both of us have grown a lot in the last nine years. Loving and being loved, it’s changed us.”

Emma didn’t know how to respond to that, and she looked despondently at the bear, setting it back down where she found it.

“You look tired,” Hook said. “Would you like to have a nap, perhaps?”

She didn’t feel particularly sleepy, but escaping into sleep did sound appealing. Emma nodded.

“If you aren’t comfortable in our bed, you can sleep in Henry’s room,” he offered.

Raising an eyebrow at him, she crossed her arms. “I bet the bed in your room is the most comfortable, though, right?”

“I can’t say I’ve ever tested Henry’s bed, but probably.”

“I’ll be fine there, then. It’s where future me sleeps every night, right?”

Hook smiled. “Aye.” 

Emma started to head down the hall as Hook moved toward the stairs. On impulse, she whirled around. “Hook? Killian?”

He turned back, expectant.

“Would you…? Would it be weird if I asked you to lie down with me for a little while? Just until I fall asleep?”

Surprise flashed briefly across his face. “Not at all.”

“I just…” She blushed. “I don’t know. I could use some comforting, I guess.”

They lay on top of the quilt, fully clothed (and Emma wondered when, in all of the chaos of the day, Hook had taken the time to make the bed). She turned onto her side, inching close enough to tuck her head under his chin. Hook tentatively rested his arm across her waist and she nuzzled closer still, her hand resting on his chest. It was nice, being in his arms, but it certainly wasn’t conducive to sleeping.

“I do have feelings for you, you know,” she said after several minutes of silence.

“I know.”

“Did you know then?”

Hook paused a beat, thinking. “I hoped, sometimes. In my darker moments, I knew that it didn’t matter; that a pirate like me was never going to be worthy of your regard. But other times, I imagined that something between us could be possible.”

“I guess it was.”

“Aye.” She felt his hand come up and stroke her hair.

“It’s a nice house; I can see why future me feels at home here,” she said, inhaling and breathing the scent of him in. 

“I’m glad, although I don’t think it’s really about the house. I could make a home in a cardboard box on the side of the road if that’s where you were.”

“Please, I saw your map room; you love this house.”

Killian chuckled. “I suppose I do.”

Their comfortable conversation relaxed her, making her speak more freely. “I’ve gotta tell you, it’s pretty weird to think that you’ve had sex with me, like, hundreds of times probably.”

He huffed out softly through his nose. “That does make this situation rather strange.”

Emma shivered. He probably knew exactly what she liked in bed, knew every minute detail of her sexual responses, and once she thought that, she couldn’t stop thinking about it. She’d had sexual fantasies about Hook before, but she’d never imagined a version of him who would already know her so intimately. She’d never allowed herself to think in terms of a long-term relationship at all.

“I want to know what it’s like, being with you,” she whispered. 

She could sense him tense up. “What?”

Emma looked up at him, and she felt her cheeks warm. “I want to feel… I want to understand what makes us good together.”

Killian’s eyebrow arched. “It’s a lot more than sex that makes us good together.”

“I know, but that’s part of it, right?”

He nodded, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed.

Pressing in closer, she felt a throb of desire pulse through her. “Show me.”

Continuing to stroke her hair, he leaned in and pressed an almost-chaste kiss to her lips. “That’s a very tempting offer, Swan. But I don’t think it would be right.”

She pulled back far enough to bring his face into focus. “Why not?”

Killian rolled away from her and onto his back, rubbing his hand over his face. “For one, I don’t think I’d be able to shake the feeling that I was being unfaithful, even though technically I suppose I wouldn’t be. But more than that, I don’t think you’re ready.”

Emma almost laughed, even while she burned with embarrassment that Killian Jones was actually turning her down. “I can be the judge of that.”

He turned to her again, his hand returning to her waist. “Sex wasn’t something you and I rushed into. We didn’t wait inordinately long either, but we did date for a little while first, even though most of our so-called dates were spent dealing with dastardly foes. When it happened, it was…” His eyes went unfocused as he remembered. “It wasn’t perfect; we were at Granny’s in one of her uncomfortable beds, trying to be as quiet as we possibly could. But at the same time, it _was_ perfect. We were both ready for that kind of intimacy.” He kissed her again, just a brush of his lips against hers. “Even if you won’t remember being here with me, even if you go back to your time and everything happens exactly as it did, I don’t want to do something that would muddy the memory of that wonderful night. For either of us.”

It was hard to feel rejected when he put it like that. “Okay.”

They held each other in silence for another minute.

“You’re really good at it though, right?”

Killian chuckled. “Oh, darling, trust me when I say that I leave you completely shattered on a regular basis.”

Emma closed her eyes, relaxing into his embrace. “Good.”

~*~

Emma was a heavy sleeper and woke slowly, so it took a minute for her to become aware of a knocking on the door. 

She sat up, grimacing at the pain in her back from another uncomfortable night at Granny’s. Noticing that Henry’s bed was empty, she figured he must have gotten hungry and gone downstairs to the diner to eat.

Padding across the room in her X-wing pajamas, Emma opened the door to see Snow standing there, holding out a steaming cup of coffee for her.

“Oh my god, coffee, you’re a lifesaver.” She took the cup and stepped back to admit her mother into the room. 

~*~

Emma stared up at the ceiling of her bedroom, gasping to catch her breath. “Jesus, Killian.”

He crawled up beside her, running his hand down over his mouth and beard. “Yes, darling?” he said innocently, as if she hadn’t been so obviously reduced to a puddle by his efforts. As if he didn’t know exactly how good he was.

Killian flopped down on his back, and Emma rolled over and rested her head on his bare chest, her legs tangling with his. She combed her fingers through his chest hair, humming with contentment. They lay together, enjoying the quiet closeness, neither of them in too much of a rush to start the day. She could feel her small baby bump pressing against his side, and it made her smile.

“I had a dream about us last night,” Emma said.

“Oh?” His fingers trailed up and down her arm, raising goosebumps in their wake.

“Yeah, it was right before we got together, when Zelena had cursed your lips. And in my dream, you were running away from me, and I kept chasing you because I needed to tell you something.” 

“Did you catch me?”

Emma shook her head. “I can’t remember.”

“You were hardly chasing me during that time in our lives, love. I was the one chasing you. Trying to get you to see that this could be your home if you allowed it to be.”

“Hey, I was chasing you in my heart.” She tilted her head and pressed a kiss against his chest. “And you did get me to see that this was my home. I think I knew it; I was just in denial. As soon as I admitted it to you, it was like this little voice inside my head quieted down. Like I’d finally made the right decision and it could rest.”

Silence descended again, and Emma continued to think about those times with him, just before she began to open her heart to the possibility that they could become something together. 

“I was cruel to you back then. Why didn’t you give up on me?”

“Because I was in love with you.”

“Yeah, but really.”

He seemed to contemplate that for several seconds. “I don’t know, Swan. For some reason I just had hope.”

Hugging him with her whole body, Emma leaned up and kissed him on the cheek. “I’m glad you did.”

“Me too.”


End file.
